Aftermath
by Kali47
Summary: Coda 3x09 Phantoms. Beckett has trouble coping with the aftermath of the events that occurred on the planet, especially the death of Barroso. McKay tries to help.


**AFTERMATH**

Chapters: oneshot  
Type: post-episodic ; angst ; drama  
Rating: PG  
Main characters: Carson Beckett ; Rodney McKay  
Timeline: Post-episode 3x09 "Phantoms"_  
_Summary: Beckett has trouble coping with the aftermath of the events that occurred on the planet, especially the death of Barroso. McKay tries to help him.  
Beta Reader: none  
Disclaimer: Don't own the show; don't own the characters (sadly).  
Written: December, 2006

* * *

McKay was checking his calculations, again, for the fourth time. The result was the same as before and he let go a sigh of relief. _Calm down_, he thought, _hallucinations are over_.

He rubbed at his eyes and decided that it was time for him to go back to his bedroom and try to get a few hours of much-needed sleep. After all, it was well earned. He had gotten shot, _again_. And that right after he'd been thinking that his life was about to end, because of the device's overload. Then, to top it all, he had had to put up with Hermiod — that damn, ever annoying, know-it-all, stubborn but of an alien — and then, cherry on top, Weir and her never-ending debriefings. Good lord, he needed, deserved, to sleep.

Rodney walked out of his lab, shoulders slumped and eyes droopy. He decided to get some fresh air first, feeling that he wouldn't have the strength to make it to his room otherwise.

The glass doors opened to let him through and he instantly felt better, once outside. Fresh air was definitely a good idea. Okay, this air was a little bit saturated with iodine, and the potential local microbes were something of a concern to him, but it was not like he could do something about it. Or perhaps, he could do just that, he could— He stopped dead in his thoughts and his tracks, when he realized that he wasn't alone outside.

Carson Beckett was leaning on the reeling, absently looking at the dark horizon ahead of him. He didn't hear McKay approach; he was probably too lost in his own head.

The scientist wondered if he should stay or just go back and leave the doctor mope alone. "Hello Carson," he said eventually, as he resumed walking forward.

"Evening Rodney," the other man replied, without even looking up. His Scottish accent was somehow less cheerful than usual.

Upon closer inspection, Rodney thought he looked sad. He didn't really understand why. Okay, this had been a very unsettling experience for all of them. They had all been left a little creeped out, but they would all survive to see another day.

"What's wrong?" McKay asked, in a tired, slightly impatient voice.

Beckett turned over to look at him, with raised eyebrows. The sadness in his blue eyes hurt Rodney, more than he would have thought possible.

"Nothing's wrong," he muttered, before looking away again, to absently look at the horizon.

"There's absolutely nothing wrong, Rodney," he said again, in a faraway voice. "A man died, but apart from that small detail... Really, nothing's wrong."

The words left Rodney feeling slightly unsettled. Sarcasm wasn't something frequent with Beckett; the Scott just the kind of person to resort to such things.

Rodney sighed again, feeling torn. He briefly wondered if he was coming down with something, but quickly brushed the thought away. He'd been given the all clear by the doctors a few hours ago, when they'd treated his leg.

He wanted to help Carson, he really did, but he had no idea what to do or say. Unlike Teyla, he wasn't good at that kind of thing. He whacked his tired brain for something, but all that he came up with was a pathetic, "It wasn't your fault."

"Just leave me alone, Rodney," the doctor asked. "Please."

That wasn't the reply McKay was expecting. He wanted to go to sleep, but instead he was here, trying his best to say something nice. Surely Carson could at least acknowledge his efforts, no?

He debated granting his friend his request; leaving him and finally taking those long-awaited hours of sleep he yearned for.

"No." The word tumbled out of his mouth quickly; taking even himself by surprise.

He took a few steps forward and stopped when he stood right next to the Scotsman. For one of the first time in his life, Doctor Rodney McKay, self-proclaimed genius, had absolutely no idea of what he was doing.

"It wasn't your fault, Carson; that machine was playing with your brain." The words poured out of his mouth of their own volition. His tone was calm and soothing; he didn't know he was capable of talking like that. "We've all seen things, done things we didn't want to. Hell, Sheppard even tried to kill me."

He paused, when no-more words seemed forthcoming. He felt that it wasn't enough though, he had to say something more. It was time to come up with something grand and profound; some magical words that would make it all better. He scrunched his brow, furiously kicked his brain into gear, but all that he could come up with was the already-used 'it wasn't your fault'. He sighed, could it be that the simplest thought was enough?

"It wasn't your fault." He tried the words, cautiously, just in case.

It seemed to have some effect on the other man, for Carson turned his head to look at him. His eyes were wet, reflecting the pain and mixed emotions the man felt.

"How could it not be my fault?" he asked, his voice raising a little, his accent harsh.

"I thought Barroso was fine and had gone outside, but the poor lad was dying, right in front of me." Carson's voice trembled violently. "For all I know he must have begged me to help him and I did not hear him. So how could it not be my fault, Rodney? How?"

He was looking at McKay expectantly, waiting for an answer; some sort of explanation that would just take the pain away. All that Rodney managed to say was a ruffled mumble of words, that sounded like 'not your fault'.

"I could have ended it all, by just pulling out a cable. It was that simple, but looked so complicated to me. We all wish it had been different," Rodney tried eventually, in a low voice. "The only persons we can blame it on are the Wraiths, Carson. It's their device that killed Barroso; their device, not you."

Beckett turned his head away, to hide a silent tear that fell from his eye. It was a lost gesture, Rodney saw it glisten on the hard cheek. Hesitantly, he put a hand on his friend's shoulder for comfort. He was angry at himself; why was it so damn hard to find the right words, he wondered.

"I wish I knew what to say to make you feel better," he said, apologetically.

"Thanks for trying." Carson forced a smile on his lips.

The Scott knew that the scientist was not good at anything even remotely emotional, but he was trying. Somehow, that thought alone, was enough to make him feel a little bit better.

Carson was in pain. He was hurting and all he wanted to do was to scream it out loud, but his throat was clogged up with too many emotions and he found that he could barely whisper the next words, "Poor lad was so young. I was there and he died alone."

Tears clouded his eyes, blurring the horizon in front of him. It was getting harder and harder for him to keep them from falling.

Rodney felt so helpless and he inwardly cursed at his uselessness. Without really knowing what he was doing, he extended his right arm and placed his hand on Carson's other shoulder. Griping him tightly, he pulled the man in a hesitant embrace.

He wasn't really sure of what he was doing, if it was the right thing or not. For a second, he feared that Carson was going to step back. He froze, with his arms held awkwardly around the Scott's shoulders and held his breath. When Beckett didn't move back, Rodney relaxed a little. He thought maybe he'd done the right thing after all. He held his friend a little closer.

It took him a moment to realise that tremors were coursing through his friend's body. A little stunned, he understood that the man was crying. He let him do so, without saying a word, and rubbed his back a little. He was surprised at how easily it came to him. He rubbed soothing circles on his friend's back and mumbled a quiet mix of _it's okay_ and _shh_ in a reassuring, almost-melodic tone. The words tasted like distant, forgotten, childhood memories.

McKay had no idea how long they stayed like that —minutes or was it hours — in each other's arms; tears falling freely. It was Carson who finally pulled back; extracting himself from the comforting warmth Rodney provided and leaning his back to the cold reeling instead.

Rodney stayed rooted where he was; too afraid to say something wrong to speak.

Carson finally broke the silence. "Thank you, Rodney," he said, in a voice closer to its usual self.

"Any time," the scientist replied. "Do you feel better?"

He shook his head, "No." He took a few steps towards the doors and they opened for him. He stopped on the threshold. "But I will."

Rodney smiled as the glass doors closed after his friend. Turning his head back, he gave on last look at the horizon, before getting back inside Atlantis. It was time to sleep.

**THE END**


End file.
